


House of Gold

by whymylife (nabringa)



Series: When Your Father Turns To Stone [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth-centric, Alfred isn't perfect, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Bruce Wayne is a Workaholic, Bruce is in self-imposed exile, Cass goes by Sylph because she isn't an orphan anymore and fairies are cool, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne’s Parent, Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Gen, Growing Up, House Hunting, POV Alfred Pennyworth, Personal Growth, Recovery, Sorry guys, Tim goes by Rook in this because Red Robin annoys me, house renovation, how is that not a tag?, i guess, just for this fic, leaving a bad situation and making your own way in life, the batkids leave and Alfred leaves with them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26202238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nabringa/pseuds/whymylife
Summary: There is a house in the depths of Park Row.The elderly man who moved in as soon as the renovations were done planted marigolds along the front walkway, and waters them by hand every morning at 8:15.If any of his grandchildren are visiting, they help him water the dandelions growing in the yard, too.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Everyone, Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Batfamily Members & Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Series: When Your Father Turns To Stone [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036254
Comments: 28
Kudos: 362





	House of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> So I read 'Irreconcilable' by LananiAO3, and the idea for this fic popped into my head. My fic isn't related to theirs except in concept, but go check their fic out if you like seeing Alfred absolutely Done with Bruce's bs. 
> 
> Title taken from the song 'House of Gold' by Twenty One Pilots.

There is a house in the depths of Park Row. 

A large house, with a wrap-around porch and three stories if you count the gables in the attic. A grand house surrounded by other grand houses left over from the time when Park Row was still the home of the Park family and their money. From the time before the echo of two bullets fired in a dark alley chased the rich away forever. An old house, long fallen into disrepair with its brethren, but recently renovated. The patchy yard has been cleared, the cracked windows replaced, the roof redone, and the graffiti covered with a fresh coat of yellow paint. It looks…

Welcoming. 

The elderly man who moved in as soon as the renovations were done planted marigolds along the front walkway, and waters them by hand every morning at 8:15. 

If any of his grandchildren are visiting, they help him water the dandelions growing in the yard, too. 

***

The day Alfred Pennyworth turns in his letter of resignation to Bruce Wayne, he takes a cab to a reasonably priced hotel and spends an hour weeping at the desk in his room. 

Alfred rarely found a use for tears in the past. They were necessary on occasion to maintain healthy emotional equilibrium, but overindulgence in sorrow led to despondence. Alfred could not afford to be despondent. However, today tears were necessary. Today he mourned a great loss. 

The day after Alfred Pennyworth turned in his letter of resignation to Bruce Wayne, he took another cab down to the Clock Tower to see Ms. Barbara about a new identity. 

***

Picking a house proved to be the most difficult portion of reinventing himself this time around. Every cent earned in his time with the Waynes had been saved in secure accounts, and documents establishing ‘Alfred Thompson’ as an entity and citizen were easy enough to come by with Ms. Barbara's and Master Timothy’s assistance. 

‘Alfred Pennyworth’ had been his chosen moniker far longer than any of his previous identities. Unfortunately, it was not wise to be attached to either of those names after his resignation. But, despite the danger, ‘Alfred’ was familiar and comforting to his charges, so Alfred he would remain. 

Yes, the primary problem was a new house. A new home. A central place for his charges to gather and feel safe. Alfred sincerely doubted that any of the children would be inclined to spend time at the Batcave in the near future, let alone Wayne Manor. Regardless, they must not be allowed to scatter to the four corners of the earth. If Master Bruce could no longer provide the security and unity they needed, Alfred would do so. 

Master Timothy offered to set up a meeting with a realestate agent, and Ms. Barbara offered to send him a list of all the houses for sale in Gotham with more than two bathrooms. Alfred gently declined both offers, and asked Master Jason to take a turn around Park Row with him at his earliest convenience. 

After overcoming his initial surprise, Master Jason was absolutely ecstatic to show off his side of the city to someone genuinely interested. Alfred had memorized every map of Gotham available to the public and several that were not, but had so rarely left Wayne Manor in recent years that he was never able to put a face to most of the alleys and side streets that tangled and twisted around the central downtown area. 

He was greatly looking forward to the outing, Master Jason’s company without the tension of tumultuous sibling relationships especially. 

Purchasing a car under his new name was the work of a morning, and after a quick luncheon at a nearby diner, Alfred drove to the Narrows to pick up his charge. 

They meandered through blocks of crumbling apartment complexes and abandoned business districts until they reached the neighborhoods that used to have nice houses for the moderately wealthy, but now had mold and rot and ruin. 

Parking against the curb, they got out and walked a block or so to get a close look at the first house. Alfred stepped carefully over the dandelions growing out of the cracks in the sidewalks and marveled that anything so ruggedly beautiful could thrive surrounded by death and decay. 

He looks up to see Master Jason walking confidently through a rare patch of sunlight just ahead of him, and a few things he never fully understood about the second Robin click into place. 

Master Jason had a hand drawn map and a list of addresses and phone numbers, and over the course of the afternoon took Alfred to five different houses for sale. All were in dire need of repair, but it was the second to last one-- the one three blocks in from a busy street sandwiched between two other nearly identical houses with an ancient oak tree in the backyard-- that Alfred deemed to have good bones. 

A breeze from the harbor made its way through the twisted streets and washed over the two of them as they assessed the house separately-- Jason with a builder's eye, Alfred with deep exhaustion in his bones and peace in his heart. 

The house used to be yellow, Alfred realizes. There are patches of bare wood and colorful spray-paint and most of the originally bright color has been worn to a dirty cream, but many decades ago this house had been yellow. 

Alfred looks at the dandelions bobbing alongside the porch, reaching for the narrow beams of sunlight that cut through the wind-stirred smog, and acknowledges that restoring the house to its original shade will be no difficult task. 

***

_The children left the manor one by one. There were no altercations, no screaming fights or irreconcilable arguments. Not at first. They simply drifted away to live their own lives, and Master Bruce made no effort to pull them back into his._

__

_Master Jason was the first. His parting was almost expected, since he’d never been ‘back’ in any way that mattered; had never been accepted as a son, and only recently accepted as a brother. He had nothing to move out, no presence in the life of the manor to miss. He simply stopped visiting one day, and Master Bruce didn’t even take note._

__

_Master Timothy was the second. Like Master Jason, he had long since given up on being a son, and had only lately re-doubled his efforts to be a brother. As an emancipated youth with a steady job and an apartment of his own it was unusual for him to be living at the manor in any capacity, so when he packed up his room and promised to stay in touch, Master Bruce simply nodded acknowledgement._

__

_After Master Timothy’s departure, Ms. Barbara and Ms. Stephanie stopped coming to visit. Master Bruce grunted his approval when Ms. Cassandra expressed an interest in rooming with Ms. Stephanie, and offered to hire a specialized company to help move her furniture. An offer she politely declined, saying Masters Jason and Timothy had already offered their assistance._

__

_Master Richard had lived in Bludhaven for nigh on ten years now, but still maintained a room at the manor for overnight visits, much like Master Timothy had. Once Damian and Duke were the only siblings left at home, his visits turned from weekend long sleep-overs at the manor to daytime excursions in Gotham proper; excursions he could include his other siblings on. After his room had seen three months of disuse, Master Richard spent a Saturday packing his personal belongings and cleaning the space out._

__

_Watching Master Richard walk to his car with the final box of old posters-- Master Damian trailing behind and Master Duke opening the passenger door-- felt like standing witness to the end of something. The end of an era of manor life._

__

_Alfred could feel tears rising behind his eyes, but pushed them back down. From the twitch of a curtain over a second story window, Alfred knew that Master Bruce had likely observed the proceedings as well, and would be an uncommunicative mess for the rest of the day at the very least. Alfred would have to be the strong one, and pretend he didn’t notice Master Damian’s stiff neck or Master Duke’s sighs while offering unobtrusive comfort to both._

__

_Despite this, Alfred was glad. Master Richard’s radiant smile as he drove away from the place he’d somewhat begrudgingly called home for the past twenty years-- the final remnants of his life there packed safely away in the back of his car-- released quite a burden from Alfred’s old shoulders._

***

Phone calls were made and paperwork was signed and after two weeks Alfred was the proud owner of the old yellow house on Soleil Avenue, paid for entirely in cash. Master Jason did a walk-through with a carpenter friend of his, and then again with an electrician friend of his, and then again with Alfred to ask about preferences in style. Alfred expressed a desire to restore the house to its original state as much as possible. After further consultation with a variety of friends-- none of which Alfred had ever been introduced to before-- Master Jason informed him that an immediate and complete renovation would be the best course of action in the long term. He gave a generous time estimate of roughly six months for completion, and made a list of the many unemployed or struggling crafters and builders in his acquaintance for Alfred to look over. 

Master Jason claimed the house renovation project as his own, and Alfred could not be more proud of the capable man his most volatile charge had become. 

From previous experience, Alfred knows living in a construction zone is it’s own special kind of hell. Therefore, he handed over his keys and his checkbook to Master Jason and elected to remain in a hotel until the majority of the work had been completed on the yellow house. 

His charges elected to ignore that decision. 

***

Master Richard was the first to invite Alfred to stay, for a few weeks at least. The apartment in Bludhaven was not small, but with the addition of Master Damian and his pets it was rather crowded. Alfred, despite his protests, was given one of the two bedrooms while Master Richard slept on the pull-out couch. More often than not, Alfred left his room in the morning to find Master Damian curled up next to Master Richard, his own lonely bed abandoned to the ghosts that haunted him nightly. 

Watching the two of them sleeping peacefully-- arms wrapped loosely around each other, blankets kicked to the floor, Alfred the cat purring at their feet and early morning light falling through cracks in the curtains and dusting fluttering eyelids with gold-- something inside Alfred breaks, just as another part mends. 

Watching the two of them wake up and smile in the sunshine and move about their home with light hearts and light steps as they tend to pets and prepare for the day without training or patrol or the fate of the world hanging over their heads-- 

Watching them live the lives they built for themselves, Alfred wonders how he ever let himself sit by while Master Bruce collected children like novelty items and wreathed them in his shadows. 

***

_Master Duke spent his last year in the manor as most high school seniors do-- filling out college applications and scholarship forms. His determination to get away was neither hidden nor malicious. It was a simple fact that he did not consider Master Bruce a father, and it never entered his mind that if he were to express an interest in living at the manor after aging out of the foster system, Master Bruce would hardly object._

__

_In fact, he would hardly notice._

__

_It became quite apparent to Alfred that the only reason Master Bruce had failed to register his increasingly vacant house was the fact that he saw his children nightly in costume. The Batcave was still the Gotham vigilante’s central base, and they stopped by for everything from medical attention to case notes._

__

_The home was empty, but the nest was full._

__

_After the final summer with Master Duke-- after the final room was emptied and the final false promise to visit made-- Alfred kept busy with re-organizing and cleaning around the manor. Now that he wasn’t wrangling children at all hours, the corners and rooms and minor duties that had been overlooked since Master Richard first moved in could finally be attended to._

__

_Alfred ignored the tightness in his throat as he reverted his charge’s bedrooms to guest rooms. He could not afford to do anything less._

__

_Master Bruce carried on as always, his schedule having remained exactly the same. Master Damian kept up with his studies and training, but Alfred could tell from his silence at the dinner table and his reluctance to venture beyond his bedroom that something was wrong. It was slow going initially, but Master Damian had become attached to each and every one of his siblings. Master Richard first and foremost, but-- surprisingly-- Masters Damian and Duke had become quite close in the year they spent as the only children in the manor._

__

_If the situation hadn’t been what it was, Alfred would have remarked upon the irony of the self-proclaimed ‘blood son’ missing his adoptive siblings._

***

Oracle, Sylph, Spoiler, and The Signal are all regularly active; Rook and Nightwing are available when needed. Red Hood has been positively proactive, and now has better control over his territory than ever before without the interference of The Dark Knight. 

Batman and Robin have not been spotted for months.

Alfred knows the position of ‘Robin' has been permanently and forcibly retired through the combined efforts of the title's previous holders, much to Master Damian's public annoyance and private relief. But Batman? Not even Commissioner Gordon has heard from him. Nightwing and Rook took the lead on the most recent Arkham breakout, and The Signal, Sylph and Spoiler take turns creeping out of the shadows beneath the Batsignal. 

Alfred thinks about Master Bruce in his dark manor on the hill, destroying antique furniture and drinking himself into oblivion by turns, the Batcave locked and neglected and the empty rooms collecting dust. 

Then Alfred remembers the silence that cloaked the vacant manor during those final months. Remembers the wariness and weariness each child had worn like a second skin when they dared to enter the Cave. The tense conversations and thundering fights between Master Bruce and Master Damian, words and fists causing irreparable damage by turns. The stiff anger radiating off them for days afterwards, clogging the air and stifling any attempts at love or levity, choking any desire to forgive and forget. 

Beyond a twinge of pity and regret, Alfred finds he can’t quite bring himself to care. 

***

Master Timothy was the next to offer his home to Alfred. 

After nearly two months cohabiting with Masters Richard and Damian, Alfred can admit he needs to move on and give them space. As much as he loves the young masters, he is no longer their Butler. Their well-being is still his priority, and he will always consider them his charges, but they need to adjust to their new life without factoring him in as a permanent fixture. 

So at dinner one day he casually made a remark about needing a change of scenery, and announced his intentions to spend a few weeks at Master Timothy’s Gotham loft. 

The relief in Master Richard’s eye is quickly replaced by dismay, but Alfred smiles to himself all the same. 

***

Master Timothy offered a token effort to make Alfred feel welcome in his home. Unfortunately, Master Timothy was doing an appalling job of making himself welcome. He had no routine for eating or sleeping, few personal effects, and rarely spent time anywhere other than his office on the rare occasion he was home at all. Allowances could have been made for such behavior under previous circumstances, but Master Timothy was an adult with a demanding job. Now that his vigilante activities had primarily transitioned from fieldwork to case work, a schedule and free time were in order. 

After three days of his nonsense, Alfred made it clear he would no longer put up with Master Timothy’s obstinate refusal to settle and be comfortable. A home was a sanctuary, not a safe house. 

With only a hint of annoyance-- well hidden to the untrained eye-- Master Timothy agreed to hear Alfred’s demands. 

Dinner would be served at six o’clock pm sharp, and both residents were expected to be in attendance every night. Once a week a friend or family member would also be invited to dinner, on a rotating basis. The apartment would be quiet from the hours of eleven o’clock pm to five o’clock am, and before he retired Master Timothy would wish a good night to his house guest. 

By the time Alfred finished making his case, there was quite a bit of sheepishness replacing the annoyance. 

***

_Without his siblings to temper him-- distract him, engage him-- Master Damian began to go quite mad. He was reaching the age where children typically start to rebel against their parents in an effort to assert independence. A necessary step in reaching adulthood, one that all of Master Bruce’s children had gone through before. However, Master Damian had been quite the rebellious child when he first arrived at the manor, and Master Bruce was unwilling to be put through the trouble of negotiating boundaries with his youngest yet again._

__

_Their arguments were explosive. Fast and heavy and hard; coming out of nowhere and rocking the manor from foundation to attic in a way reminiscent of Master Jason’s first tentative visits after his debut as Red Hood. Alfred took refuge in the kitchen more often than not, and mentally prepared himself for the scent of burning and wrath that would linger around the two members of the household for the foreseeable future._

__

_Master Damian looked forward to patrol and the weekends above all else. The change that came over him when he was with his siblings was unprecedented, and even Master Bruce noticed after a while. The tense, angry, lonely young man relaxed into a confident and playful brother. He teased Master Timothy, antagonized Ms. Stephanie, allowed himself to be babied by Ms. Cassandra, and worked seamlessly with Masters Richard and Duke. He even traded banter with Ms. Barbara and Master Jason across the comms on occasion._

__

_The weekends were spent outside of the manor in their entirety, usually sleeping over with a sibling or two. Master Richard’s Bludhaven apartment was a favorite destination, but Alfred had picked Master Damian up from the Gotham University dorms on more than one occasion._

__

_If Master Damian was chasing after his siblings, they were only running farther from home._

__

_Master Jason had long since stopped coming to the Cave for anything except medical emergencies. The others came for what they needed and didn’t linger. One by one they declared themselves financially independent, causing Master Bruce to spend an afternoon canceling a dozen or so credit and debit cards on various accounts and emailing lawyers about taxes._

__

_It was the first time in active memory Master Bruce had spent his free time on anything related to his children as people, as Master Damian so helpfully pointed out._

__

_The most dramatic split came from Master Timothy, who-- a month after moving out of the manor-- resigned as the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and moved immediately to the position of CEO at Drake Industries. It took him a little over a month to have the husk of a company straightened out and heading in a better direction. Master Timothy also made some minor adjustments to his costume and changed his field name to ‘Rook’, citing that the existence of two Reds and two Robins on one team was an oversight that had gone too long overlooked._

__

_The others quietly congratulated him on finally stepping out of Master Bruce’s shadow, both as Bruce Wayne and as Batman._

__

_Master Bruce raised an eyebrow and updated Master Timothy’s files._

***

After a month cohabiting with Master Timothy-- and with the six months of work on the yellow house extended to nine by Master Jason’s estimate-- Ms. Cassandra and Ms. Stephanie humbly request Alfred’s presence in their home. After one last dinner together, Alfred took his leave of a well rested and relaxed Master Timothy. They scheduled weekly phone calls, and Alfred had taken the liberty of organizing bi-weekly grocery deliveries, so he trusted Master Timothy would maintain his newly planted roots. 

***

Ms. Stephanie greeted him with a hug as he stepped into her apartment, Ms. Cassandra not far behind. This open affection set the tone for his stay with the young ladies, who smiled and laughed and moved easily around their shared space as they helped him settle in. 

Alfred slid seamlessly into their routine, and was pleased to see their lifestyles required no intervention on his part. Both ate and slept regularly, worked together well and didn’t go overboard on patrol, and held steady day jobs-- Ms. Cassandra at a ballet studio and Ms. Stephanie as a substitute teacher. Both had asked to list him as a reference on their resumes, Alfred recalled fondly. 

Aside from the occasional impromptu cooking or housekeeping lesson, Alfred was free to simply enjoy spending time with Ms. Cassandra and Ms. Stephanie-- and Ms. Barbara too, of course. 

‘Girl Night’-- as it had been dubbed-- was every Friday night the three young ladies could manage. Ms. Barbara brought snacks, Ms. Cassandra picked the movie, and Ms. Stephanie readied the living room. 

On his first Friday night at the apartment, Alfred retreated to his room after bidding the young ladies a good evening, only to hear a knock at his door and a rather loud invitation to join the group for the movie and cookies. Considering Ms. Barbara had learned to bake from himself, Alfred could hardly refuse. 

***

After more than three months with Ms. Cassandra and Ms. Stephanie, Ms. Barbara was the next to ask Alfred to visit. In a professional capacity. The Clock Tower had been the unofficial vigilante central since the split, but now that sufficient time had passed for reconciliation to be deemed unlikely, it was time to make the designation official. Ms. Barbara cordially requested Alfred’s help with setting up a med bay and equipment storage room, not to mention a proper locker room. Considering he was the only contact of Gotham’s currently active vigilantes who had set up a proper vigilante den before, Alfred was all too happy to oblige. 

His stay was short-- only three weeks-- but quite satisfactory. Ms. Barbara had purchased all the necessary supplies well in advance, and invited over whomever was available when heavy lifting needed to be done. 

In those three weeks, Alfred saw more of his charges working happily together than he had in years. Masters Jason and Richard made equipment lifting a competition, Master Timothy helped Ms. Barbara with the finer details of her expanded computer system, Master Duke and Ms. Stephanie double checked inventory together, and Ms. Cassandra took Master Damian by the hand and taught him how to sweep and mop. Alfred corralled and re-directed and mediated-- and smiled. 

After each day’s work was done, his charges gathered with a meal and homemade cookies-- courtesy of either Alfred or Ms. Barbara-- and discussed the future. 

Nobody wanted to bear a Bat into battle anymore. Alfred understood, though it broke his heart to think about how Master Bruce had so carelessly destroyed his own legacy. He did, however, put his foot down when Ms. Cassandra suggested going from 'Batgirl' back to her previous field name of 'Orphan'. She was not and would never again be without family. 

Her shy smile and slow nod when Alfred suggested 'Sylph' brought a matching smile to his face, and eased some of the ache in his chest. 

Costumes were re-designed, patrol routes re-negotiated, and funding discussed. Every one of his charges had a day job-- except for Master Damian, who was not quite eligible for a legally acquired job, and Master Jason, who was still legally dead-- so being cut off from Master Bruce’s fortune was no great burden. Except when it came to the less than cost efficient hobby of vigilantism. Thankfully, Masters Timothy and Jason came to an agreement about jointly funding everyone’s vigilante related expenses, running the money through several secure accounts and Ms. Barbara for good measure. A budget would be necessary of course, but between Master Jason’s unfortunately criminally obtained cash and Master Timothy’s CEO salary, funding seven vigilantes was possible. 

On his last night at the Clock Tower, Alfred and Ms. Barbara baked a chocolate cake together and ate it in the kitchen, talking long into the night about the recent upheaval in their lives and how those changes could affect the future. Alfred updated Ms. Barbara on the house renovation, and she thanked him for his help on the new base. They drank a quiet cup of chamomile, and retired to bed at an appropriate hour for their status as guardian angels. 

***

_During his time as an only child, Master Damian started to ask for things to fill his days. Things that he wanted, not things he needed or knew would be beneficial to have. Things like art lessons and permission to volunteer at an animal shelter and an extra day off from patrol. Master Bruce agreed almost off-hand to each request, except the extra day off. But Master Damian inherited nothing from Master Bruce if not his stubbornness, and fought him over it until Tuesday nights were his own to do with as he wished. More often than not, Master Damian’s wishes involved outings with a friend from school, or whichever sibling was also off duty that night._

__

_After months of fighting loneliness and enduring confrontations, Master Damian asked to be allowed to move to Bludhaven and live permanently with Master Richard. Master Bruce refused on principle. Master Damian would not let it go that easily, and so began a series of debates that spanned six weeks and nearly brought the manor down around them._

__

_It wasn’t until Master Richard got involved that things came to a head. He appeared at the manor proper for the first time in nearly a year with his company smile fixed firmly in place and asked to speak with Master Bruce. They went up to the office to discuss custody arrangements, Master Damian disappeared into the grounds with Titus, and Alfred set himself up in the kitchen with a handful of old recipe books to skim through._

__

_After an hour, Master Damian appeared in the kitchen with Alfred the cat. Sitting tentatively across from Alfred the Butler, he reached for the pile of recipe books and helped himself to one with a photo of pasta on the cover. Alfred fixed them both tea._

__

_After two hours, Alfred began dinner preparations, and asked Master Damian to set the table for three._

__

_After three hours, Alfred put the finished meal in the warmer, and returned to the recipe books. Master Damian had fetched his sketchbook, and was attempting to capture the way Alfred the cat’s fur stood up around the scruff._

__

_At the four hour mark, Master Richard entered the kitchen. Master Damian dropped his fork onto his plate and stood immediately, a question in his eyes. All it took was a good look at Master Richard’s stiff shoulders and carefully blank face-- company smile long removed-- to answer him._

__

_Master Richard pulled Master Damian into a tight hug, the younger boy almost matching him in height now. Whispers were exchanged, and then he pushed Master Damian back towards his unfinished dinner and approached Alfred._

__

_Alfred pulled Master Richard into his arms and held him for a long while. It had been more than a year since the most effusive of his charges had ventured to seek comfort from him, and Alfred found that he missed Master Richard’s hugs quite a bit more than he’d expected. He really should make an effort to seek out his charges now that they’d gone their own ways in life._

__

_But, if Master Bruce refused to go to his children and the children refused to go to their father, how was Alfred to bring them back together?_

***

During Alfred’s stay with Ms. Barbara, Master Jason approached him and asked if he would be interested in spending the final two months before the renovation was complete at his own apartment. How could Alfred refuse? 

Master Jason’s apartment was the smallest of his siblings. Situated squarely in the worst neighborhood in the Narrows, it was by far the cheapest and the most run-down. It was also the most ‘lived in’. There were paintings and posters on the walls, messy bookcases in the living room, and mismatched dishes in the kitchen. There was also a college student sleeping on the couch. 

Master Duke was in his sophomore year and had yet to find a job that would both allow him to remain in school and afford an apartment. That was all well and good, but meant that Master Duke spent his breaks camping out in available living rooms. Master Jason had generously offered up his own couch for the current Holiday break. 

Alfred arrived a few days after winter break started, and was set up in the single bedroom. Master Jason insisted on sleeping on the floor in the living room, though he conceded to having a pallet made up for him out of spare blankets. Alfred resolved to buy him an air mattress for Christmas. 

Master Duke seemed comfortable in the apartment, if a little too eager to please. He washed the dishes after every meal, kept the living room tidy, and even offered to sweep and mop the kitchen or clean the bathroom. Master Jason scoffed, and told him on no uncertain terms that if his help was wanted, it would be requested. Master Duke relaxed a bit more after that, and even left an open bag of chips on the coffee table later that day. 

While Alfred was pleased with the progress Master Duke was making in school, his living arrangements left much to be desired. Stability was essential to young people, especially those still trying to find their way in the world. Stability was also something Alfred was now equipped to offer. After dinner Alfred broached the topic of living quarters with Master Duke, and suggested a room at the yellow house be put aside exclusively for his use. 

As the conversation continued, Alfred voiced his plans for the yellow house for the first time, many of his hopes and desires solidifying only as he spoke them aloud. 

The yellow house would by no means become a vigilante safe house, but it’s intended purpose was and would always be to provide his charges with a secure home. The offer of a room would, of course, be extended to every member of the family. Alfred would endeavor to let them know they were always welcome at the yellow house. Whenever and for as long as they needed it, his home was their home. 

Master Duke was in tears when he accepted Alfred’s offer. 

***

Holidays had never been the family events Alfred wanted them to be in the past. The Christmas after Master Jason's death had been cold and stilted, and the holiday never fully recovered it's previous warmth. Also, despite the ever increasing size of the family, family events and bonding activities had never been prioritized by Master Bruce. He purchased the requested gifts and made an appearance at dinner, and considered his duty done. 

Alfred was determined that it would be different in the future. Family should spend time together. However, gathering all eight of his charges in one central location to celebrate would have to wait until the completion of the yellow house. In the mean time, Alfred intended to make the most of the festivities with Master Duke and Master Jason. 

The week leading up to Christmas passed in a blur of shopping and decorating and planning. Alfred found time to drive to each of his charges' homes to deliver their gifts in person, and Master Jason arranged for the whole family to attend a matinee showing of ‘A Christmas Carol’ at a local theater. 

Christmas day itself was remarkably quiet. Master Jason woke up early to attend Mass, and Alfred had breakfast ready by the time he arrived home. After presents were exchanged and breakfast dishes done, the young masters lazed around the apartment reading. Master Jason had, of course, gifted everyone in his acquaintance with a book, and received books in return. Alfred spent an hour or so with his special addition Tennyson, before making his way to the kitchen to begin dinner preparations. 

Minutes after he left the living room, the boys put their own books down and followed. Master Duke was put to work peeling vegetables and setting the table, while Master Jason cheerfully took over the turkey and dressing. Alfred watched them work, occasionally offering suggestions or corrections, but they were primarily unnecessary. The boys knew what they were about. 

By noon the apartment smelled of cinnamon and rosemary and evergreen, and the candles in the windows flickered against the dull December sky like a beacon. 

Alfred sat at the cramped kitchen table and ate perfectly seasoned turkey and lumpy mashed potatoes and laughed along with Master’s Jason and Duke, and knew that his charges scattered across the city were doing much the same in their own homes. He found he could breathe a bit easier and sit a bit straighter at the thought. 

***

Throughout the months of January and February, Alfred and Master Jason made frequent trips to inspect the progress on the yellow house. Most of the labor intensive work was done, and all that was left was installing fixtures and painting. 

More often than not, one of his charges would drop by on the weekend to see if they could assist with anything, Ms. Stephanie and Master Duke primarily. Both had experience with home repair, and knew several of Master Jason’s hired help by name or reputation. 

There was quite the commotion the day Ms. Stephanie referred to one of the men by his given name, only to realize she had only met him previously as Spoiler and was responsible for his most recent term in prison. 

Over the last month of construction, every one of the children found time to come down and help with something. With Master Jason’s supervision, of course. Master Richard and Master Timothy installed light fixtures, Master Damian and Master Duke helped choose paint colors and design schemes, Ms. Cassandra helped Master Jason hang cabinets, and Ms. Stephanie assisted in the installation of the second story windows. Ms. Barbara spent an afternoon exploring the house and pointing out where it could be made more accessible to her, and even sent over an improved porch design for the future. 

Alfred made the purpose of the house known to his charges, and weathered the barrage of hugs that followed with a full heart and a wide smile. They had each contributed to the yellow house in their own way, much as they had each enriched his life when they became a part of it. 

Richard, Barbara, Jason, Cassandra, Timothy, Stephanie, Duke, and Damian. They had made themselves at home in his heart, and Alfred was delighted at the prospect of finally making those emotional connections tangible; relieved to finally have a place that was solely his own in name but entirely his grandchildren’s in spirit. 

***

_The custody switch was barely kept out of the papers. Somewhat because of money, but primarily because the bulk of it consisted of private negotiations between Master Bruce and Master Richard. Private threats._

__

_Master Richard held all the cards in this power struggle. He held all the secrets, and none of the fear or paranoia that had kept them secret. Master Bruce signed away his parental rights after Master Richard affirmed his intentions of dragging his former guardian to court on counts of child abuse and neglect._

__

_The whole ordeal took a week and a half, and by the end of it Master Damian’s room was empty, the Batcave was deserted, and Alfred was alone in the kitchen paging through old recipe books and wondering how he could possibly care for his charges when they had all fled so far from his domain._

__

_No. From Master Bruce’s domain._

__

_Perhaps it was time to go to the children. To go where he was most needed, instead of mediating between two separated parties who had no interest in reunion._

__

_Reaching for a sheet of paper and a pen, Alfred wondered how long it would take Master Bruce to notice his absence._

***

On February 23rd, almost nine months exactly after he signed the paperwork, Alfred moved into the yellow house. 

He’d spent the last week shopping for furniture and necessities and arranging the rooms to his liking-- with the help of Masters Jason and Duke, of course-- so on the final day all he had left to do was pack a suitcase of personal items and drive to his new residence. The young Masters offered to accompany him, but this was something Alfred wished to do alone. 

Walking up the worn stone steps and unlocking the door, stepping inside, hanging up his own hat and coat on his own coat rack, felt final. An end and a beginning. Fragments of his life that he’d never been able to fully reconcile were finally slotting into place, and Alfred let his tears fall freely. 

He could finally settle, and breathe again. 

He could finally stop trying to thrive in darkness. 

He had finally stepped out of the shadows, and into the light. 

***

On Easter Sunday, Alfred attended a sunrise service at the local Anglican church. It had been years since he’d regularly attended church, but a new beginning didn’t just mean new habits. It meant digging up and dusting off old habits and comforts you had been forced to put aside. 

Weed a garden, yes. But never dig out everything previously planted and start over from scratch. 

The congregation was small, the building old, the sunrise barely visible from the narrow street. It was a most excellent service. 

Alfred stepped out of the church into the gray half-light of a Gotham dawn, and smiled. Soul singing with the joy of new life-- of renewal and rebirth and resurrection-- he walked three slow blocks to his yellow house. Fixing a cup of earl gray in the kitchen, he relocated to sit on the porch and watch the sunlight creep up the sides of the house, dripping diamonds into the windows and streaking the walls with gold. The dandelions opened, and a lone robin sang. 

Alfred finished his tea, and made his way back inside. If dinner was to be ready at noon, preparations must begin promptly. Jason had insisted on arriving early to help with the meal, most likely bringing Duke along with him. Richard and Damian would be next, probably bearing an overpriced bakery dessert and baskets of stuffed eggs. The girls would all arrive together an hour or so before dinner, dragging a frazzled Timothy along with them. Hopefully Barbara would bring a more sensible dessert to counterbalance Richard’s monstrosity. Preferably something he’d taught her how to make. 

Most of them had their own traditions this time of year, but they’d all agreed to congregate at the yellow house for Easter Dinner. This would be the first time all eight of his charges-- his grandchildren-- were together in his home. Oh, they had all visited, both individually and in groups. Duke even spent a weekend setting up his room. But this was different. This was a family event, and the family had agreed to be in attendance. 

In the dining room, Alfred counted out nine place settings of his good china, nine glasses, nine sets of silver. He shook out an embroidered tablecloth and the white linen napkins. The windows faced east, so Alfred set the table for nine in a room dripping with butter and honey. 

Alfred surveyed his work and took a deep breath of silence from the doorway. Soon his yellow house will be lit with sunshine smiles and sing with light laughter, and he will bask in family and home and security. Soon. 

The table was perfectly set, of course. But… Missing something. When Jason arrived, Alfred would have to ask him to pick some dandelions for a centerpiece.

**Author's Note:**

> So. Alfred. I feel like he gets too much credit. I mean, he is portrayed as this perfect grandpa/mom/butler the majority of the time, and nobody is perfect. This fic is kinda my response to that mentality? Like, yeah, Alfred is great, but he is also partially responsible for Bruce's issues by virtue of being the only father figure in Bruce's life for a long time. He doesn't always take initiative in situations that call for it. So here he is, taking some initiative. 
> 
> This is officially the longest single, completed work I have ever written! I feel so accomplished, even if it took me almost a month. I do have some follow-ups planned. Will ever get to them? Who knows??? Not me. 
> 
> If you see any mistakes feel free to call me out! I switched tenses so often I was giving myself whiplash, and there is no way I caught all the slip-ups. Thanks for reading!


End file.
